“She doesn’t know you,” Raeln told Dalania, to nods from the others. “She fought the rest of us, though. You will need to fetch the horses. We’ll meet you at the gate.”
“Like you said, they will recognize you,” Dalania objected, gesturing toward the huge group, as though he might have forgotten.
“I have a plan for us. Get moving.”
Wringing her hands nervously, Dalania nodded and ran off toward the gate. Before she had gotten twenty feet away, Raeln saw her abruptly change shape into a mongrel dog, appearing as filthy and matted as those that he had noticed here and there in the alleys. No one would notice her like that unless they saw her during the change. She continued toward the gate, stopping occasionally to sniff at something when a group of humans would get too near her, as if she thought they might guess at what she really was.
“I will keep jokes to myself, yes?” Yoska said, smiling as he watched Dalania go. “We are all thinking them. Is my right as oldest to be crudest, even if I am too much a gentleman to say such things in her presence.” On’esquin snorted at that, but Yoska quickly added, “I am oldest. We do not count thousand-year naps.”
Grumbling, On’esquin shifted so his back was to Yoska, asking Raeln, “What is your plan?”
Raeln moved out of On’esquin’s way and looked pointedly across the street at the now fourteen robed figures standing there, being entirely ignored by the populace. They were incredibly obvious and yet no one paid them any heed. The robed people may as well have been statues for all the attention they garnished.
“Nice,” On’esquin observed, grinning. “The fat one’s robe should fit me nicely. One or two might be close for you, but your feet will show.”
“No one even looks at them,” said Raeln. “I doubt anyone will see my feet.”
“How do we get them out of the middle of the street, though?”
That had been the one detail Raeln was struggling with, too. Finally, he decided to try the easy way. As On’esquin had said, some traps just needed springing. This had to be a trap and there was no time to find another way.
Pointing at the robed people, who all snapped to attention as he did so, Raeln then beckoned them over. To his amazement they started across the street immediately.
“Too easy,” Yoska muttered to himself, shaking his head and drawing both of his knives. “Kids these days with their shortcuts.”
Before anyone could reply, the large group of humans reached them, not even hesitating to follow them into the dark alley. The group narrowed to four-wide to fit in the alley, though one middle-aged woman led the way, walking straight up to Raeln.
“Hello, honored child of the wild one,” the woman announced about the time Raeln was considering attacking. He froze, unsure what to do. “Your kin have already left the city, as you probably were going to ask. We meant to leave the same way with you, but our cooperation from the guard has gotten…strained. Matters are rather dire at the gates, as you are no doubt aware.”
Raeln turned slowly to look at On’esquin and Yoska, who both looked as confused as he felt.
“Kerrelin priests?” Yoska asked and the robed men and woman nodded. “You worship big tree, yes?”
The woman who had spoken laughed, while the others smiled. “We worship the wilderness and all things that challenge civilization to better itself or face extinction,” the lead priestess explained. “The beasts of the wilderness are our god’s children. Wildlings—long absent from these lands—are our god’s chosen emissaries. Kerrelin’s form of choice is a great wolf. You came here for a reason and we will help you with it.”
“But you do not know the reason,” On’esquin argued, clearly unsure what to make of the priests.
“Nor will we ask,” the priestess replied. “You are friends of the wild. That is enough for our order. We waited for a sign that we should begin our war against the Turessian people, with or without the city’s leadership. Finding a child of Kerrelin in need and another wandering the city is all the sign we would ever require, and finding three within one day is beyond question. Show us what you would have us do and it will be done, so long as it does not require us to break other oaths.”
“We…uh…” Yoska stammered, looking to be at a near total loss for words. “We were going to steal your robes to sneak to gate…”
Nodding in understanding and turning to one of the other priests, the woman who had spoken motioned for him to go. The man ran off, heading back into the heart of the city. “My acolyte will fetch you robes that fit. If we were merely outfitting you,” she said, motioning toward Yoska, “we would have had an easier time. My man will find something suitable for all of you, though. You should not have to wait long.”
The priestess was not wrong about her assessment of time, but however long it did take was incredibly uncomfortable for Raeln. The entire time was spent with the priests watching him expectantly without saying anything. The few times Yoska tried to say something, they answered curtly and resumed watching Raeln. He dearly wanted to ask them why they were so obsessed with watching his every move, but when he almost asked, the humans became so disturbingly eager as they stared that he decided not to ask after all.
The young priest’s return was a welcome relief for Raeln. The man came running over, offering Raeln a stack of robes with a deep bow.
Taking the robe off the top, Raeln nervously unfolded it as the acolyte moved on to On’esquin and then Yoska, offering them each one. As the priestess had said, the robe was a decent enough fit, so long as Raeln kept his tail close and flattened his ears when he had the hood up. Each time he heard something he had not expected, his ears would pop out and cause the hood to fall back.
“Don’t worry yourselves,” the priestess told them once they were all dressed and fidgeting with their robes. “Our order is respected and rarely interfered with, especially since the Turessian Rishad came. We should be able to walk to the gates without any questions, even from him. No one here is foolish enough to stare a priest of Kerrelin in the eyes.”
“Wait…Turessian?” Raeln asked, seeing Yoska’s nervous glance and On’esquin’s jaw clench. “He’s in the city right now?”
“Yes, he has embraced the order and now leads us as a prophet. He states that his own master also seeks out the wilder people and has a deep interest in them.”
“You don’t have a problem with helping us without telling him, do you?” Raeln inquired, feeling even less sure of working with these people.
“We are not idiots, child of the wilds. Rishad has come to share our beliefs, but we have no knowledge of the one he serves. For his best interest, we keep Rishad unaware of things he is not yet wise enough to deal with. The coming of wildlings would be one of those things, though he does know about your kin. That we could not hide from him. I can assure you that your arrival is far more prophetic than anything Rishad has managed to say thus far, which is why we helped your friends leave the city.”
“Estin?” Yoska asked them, to which several of the priests nodded.
“If he’s already outside, we need to get moving,” said Raeln, and the priests quickly agreed and filed out of the alley. They waited at the entrance for their three newly robed companions.
Once everyone was in the street, the priests surrounded the three of them, helping hide them by keeping them away from the outside of the group. They headed down the street, calling out greetings to the citizenry, who politely said their own hellos or nodded in passing, always without really looking at the priests. Initially, Raeln had thought the people were uninterested, but after the priestess’ comment, he realized that she was right. People would not look the priests in the eyes.
As they approached the northern gate, Raeln was able to make out far more of what was happening there. Dalania had been correct in her assessment of the situation. He could see dozens of undead milling about while a single Turessian stood in front of the gate, surveying the crowds. Several human soldiers were actively shouting at her to leave. She ignored them all, waiting patiently.
“That woman will kill all of us if she finds you,” warned the priestess, whispering to Raeln. “She nearly caught your kin. I would guess she knows not all of you escaped. She is no ally of Rishad, but calling on him to evict her would lead us to new problems. We would much rather face her directly.”
Raeln then spotted Dalania, standing near the gates with six horses, all laden with traveling supplies. Unlike the horses they had brought from farther south, these were hairy beasts, better-suited for the lands they were heading toward. The horses kept trying to move, but Dalania was purposely keeping them between herself and the Turessian’s force. If the gate was open, they would be able to ride out in seconds once they reached her, but with the undead and soldiers, Raeln had no idea how they would manage.
Nudging Raeln with his elbow, Yoska whispered, “Gunari is near gates. He may have plan for getting us out.”
Sure enough, Raeln spotted the silk-wearing gypsy leaning against the wall near the gate. He was watching the crowd in much the same way as the Turessian woman, though standing far from her.
“The distraction should be here soon,” the priestess announced, bringing the group to a halt. “Prepare yourselves to flee.”
“What about the gate?” Raeln asked her.
“We have loyal followers on the wall. It will open. Have faith. Those without faith at that gate will reconsider their decision to leave the church.”
“I’m not exactly the religious sort.”
That seemed to amuse the woman and she covered her mouth as she laughed. Once she had stopped, she answered, “The gods believe in you, even if you have doubts about them. That was why they chose you.”
“No one chose me, except maybe the orc behind me.”
The priestess took Raeln’s hand and lifted his sleeve far enough to expose a series of thin scars that were mostly hidden by his fur. She smiled at those marks and looked up at him amusedly. “You were marked by Kerrelin. Trust me in that. I smelled it on you long before we spoke and likely before you could smell us.”
Raeln pulled his hand away and thought about where those scars had come from. It took him a few seconds to narrow it down, but he realized they came from werewolves he had fought outside Lantonne in an effort to save Greth. Raeln was going to argue with the woman—after all, he had met one of the supposed “gods” back in Lantonne—when he spotted a second group of priests approaching the gates. They stopped about a hundred feet from the undead, right in the middle of the street.
“Run for your horses when the undead go after them,” the priestess explained, nodding toward the other priests. “If you are seen, we will deal with any that come your way.”
“I don’t care whether you’re fast or good at magic, they will kill all of you,” Raeln snapped, but the woman smiled at him again, shaking her head.
“That woman does not understand Kerrelin, nor does the one we call the prophet,” she said. As she blinked, her eyes seemed to change shape abruptly. “You were born to your gifts. Kerrelin gave us ours. Our order has waited for Turessi to rise for centuries. We are prepared and all the signs we sought have come.”
Before Raeln could ask, the other group of priests threw back their hoods and let out howls that echoed throughout the city. Immediately the citizens ran for cover, even as the Turessian walked slowly to the front of her group of undead, staring in confusion.
One by one the priests seemed to grow in size, their bodies contorting briefly. Raeln could see doglike faces on those that had their hoods down and their hands quickly twisted into fur-covered claws. “Werewolves,” he murmured, looking back at the priestess. “Your priests are werewolves?”
“Kerrelin gave it to us as a blessing, even if others see it as a curse,” she replied. As soon as she stopped talking, her face broke and shifted, turning into a wolven face like his own. Looking up at him, the werewolf grinned maliciously. “Thirty undead are no match for as many of us. Get out of the city and do not concern yourself with Jnodin. The city will wait for your return.”
The Turessian let out a shout as the werewolves charged, sending her own troops running toward them. She followed at a walk, pulling back her hood to watch as the zombies and werewolves slammed into one another, tearing and biting at anything they could reach. While the undead felt no pain, they also could not die. Likewise, the werewolves healed from their wounds, often stumbling out of battle to recover before charging right back in, ripping limbs off of the zombies with ease.